This past Advent during a work retreat, I was struck by the image of the empty manger. Since experiencing a sudden hysterectomy almost ten years ago on the night my only child was born, the empty manger has often represented, for me, all that I had lost. It was a tangible reminder of what my husband and I would never again experience – that of placing a newborn babe in a crib. The empty crib represented the empty arms, empty room, and empty hole in our hearts of not being able to grow our family as we had planned.  Meditating on this past weekend’s Gospel of the Magi in conjunction with the image of the empty manger, I have been sitting with the image of receiving whatever God has for us and our marriage, as we walk the path of infertility. In my mind’s eye, I pictured God placing these precious plans in the manger waiting for me to pick them up and embrace them close to my heart. The question is, will I?

During last weekend’s homily, my pastor spoke of the time, gifts, and risks the Magi took to see the newborn King in that manger. He spoke of the need to cultivate and carve out time to spend with Jesus in prayer, in speaking with and listening to Him, and reminded us that we may need to sacrifice to be able to spend time with our Lord. Taking time to go to Adoration requires planning and scheduling. Cultivating a moment for silence in order to enter into that profound Silence and allow our hearts to hear the word of God requires slowing down and being willing to disengage from the busyness that is so prized in our society and culture. 

Each of the Magi also brought with them unique gifts. We know, from Theology of the Body, that we as wives, and our spouses as husbands, bring unique gifts to our marriages by the virtue of being created male and female. Furthermore, we are unique, unrepeatable human beings who bring and share gifts in only the ways we each can. Similar to the little drummer boy who gave in his own special way as narrated in the beloved Christmas song, we, too, have something unique to offer. Only we can carry our crosses and in a singularly unique manner, we can co-create with God something special out of our sufferings united to His Passion. What are ways we can tend to the needs of others and show love and care in ways that are unique to ourselves, as a form of spiritual parenthood, amidst our individual situations or circumstances? 

Going back to that empty manger scene, maybe some of us have the gift of organization and tidying up spaces, such as the innkeeper who provided the physical space for the Holy Family. Maybe for others, we have the gift of creating or making things, such as the carpenter who built the stable and who lovingly crafted that manger. Yet, others may have the gift of presence and are experts at sitting with others and holding space for them – as I picture the three wise men doing after their long journey as they bestowed their gifts and shared wisdom. Others may have a unique way of sharing stories and telling them so others can also hear  (I wonder what the townspeople thought as they heard first-hand accounts from the shepherds who beheld that brightly shining star.) 

Whatever your gifts are, consider taking time to cultivate them. Consider the receiver of the gifts, our Lord, and how He gave us the greatest gift of all, through entering into humanity and coming amidst our brokenness to walk with us….even on the path of infertility. The story of the Magi bringing their gifts to Baby Jesus reminds us there are risks, and a stepping out in faith, that we must be willing to take in efforts to grow closer to Jesus. 

A personal example of leaning into the vulnerability and recognizing how to better serve God is that over the last year, I have scaled back on the numerous meal trains I used to be involved with in my small town. There is no shortage of ways to serve growing families within this community, and jumping on meal trains and taking food to those in need was an easy way for me to feel I was helping feed the hungry. However, I noticed that this act of service began to take a toll on me…especially as I started to serve the same mothers as babies # 3, # 4, # 5, and so on arrived over the last ten years. I noticed that rather than physically dropping off meals, I began to oversee posting of and sharing meal trains on social media in efforts to fill the meal trains through word of mouth. I saw this shift as sharing my gifts in a different way. However, in retrospect, I can see that even this less-involved way of sharing gifts still risked my, at times, tender heart and often required trying to ward off feelings of envy. 

Nowadays, I rarely participate in the meal trains, but have found other ways to serve others in my community. One  example occurred last week when an impromptu Christmas Lights Scavenger Hunt was completed on a snowy New Year’s Day after the evening Mass. My gift for planning and creating unique experiences helped  provide a  memorable evening for fellow church-goers who “raced” us in a nearby neighborhood checking off Christmas light displays. Sure, in spite of finding different ways to serve as the hands and feet of Christ, the risk of  possibly falling into the feelings of despair and envy is still there, but following Christ’s call to self gift is always worth it. Looking ahead to the upcoming year, I will continue striving to engage in holy leisure in efforts to grow closer to God and to be present to others via this form of spiritual parenthood. 

In closing, in reflecting on the sharing of time, gifts, and risks on the part of the Magi, I was reminded of a Christmas story I read last month called, The Story of the Other Wise Man, by Henry van Dyke. So often, we can feel like the “other” in our circle of friends. Walking this path of infertility can feel isolating at times. In the story, the reader learns of the feelings of isolation the other wise man felt as he sought to “catch up” to the more familiar three wise men. However, by the end of the story, the reader learns along with the Other Wise Man that he does indeed have a mission. He matters too. He shared his gifts with Christ in a different way than what he had envisioned. He made an impact even when he did not realize it. So, too, can we be assured of this encounter with Christ in our lives if we are open to receiving what He has for us.

So, coming back once more to the Nativity Scene, I now see the empty manger  as an opportunity to encounter Christ and to lay it all in the manger – the disappointments, the regrets, the shame, the anger – similar to how we ought to lay all these things at the foot of the Cross. Rather than the focus being on wanting a baby to place in that manger, I’m now actively striving to see that manger as a vessel in which I can lay down the anxiety, the worry, and the grief. Doing so and leaving it all there for God enables Him to transform and redeem it in only the ways He can. Let yourself be led to that manger. Encounter Him in your New Beginning.

Dr. Megan Reister is a professor of special education and early childhood education at Franciscan University of Steubenville in Ohio. Married to Adam since 2015, Meg loves going on adventures with their daughter and exploring new places, writing, puppies, and women’s ministry—some of which she’s written about here. While Meg loves all of what Springs has to offer, the in-person small groups are close to her heart.